


Illuminating

by Falcine



Series: Wind Walker [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin is the Avatar, F/M, Obi-Wan is the Last Airbender, obligatory crossover is obligatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcine/pseuds/Falcine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere behind him, Roku’s Island is burning up. It is being consumed. </p><p>With the Avatar on his side, Fire Lord Palpatine wages war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Star Wars/Avatar: the Last Airbender crossover that nobody asked for. Roughly, this corresponds to the arrival of Sozin's Comet and the attack on the Air Nation.

A slow smile stretches across his face when Anakin strolls onto the warship. 

Somewhere behind him, Roku’s Island is burning up. It is being consumed. Lava is flowing and drenching it all in the sweet, satisfying roar of fire, and Anakin can feel it under his skin like a glowing ember. 

“Sir, are you alright?” one of the soldier asks, hand held out hesitantly. 

For some reason, Anakin feels the immense urge to laugh. 

He holds his bleeding mess of an arm gingerly, wincing slightly even now, but then again he should’ve seen it coming. Obi-Wan always did like to boast that he could probably take someone’s arm clean off with that silly little weapon of his, and Anakin finds he isn’t too pleased with the idea of going another round. 

Of course, he never has to fight Obi-Wan ever again. The thought comes in a bright laugh, amazed and freeing, like breaking shackles he never knew he had weighing him down. His blood is dripping on the floor, hot and sizzling even when it strikes metal. 

Anakin reaches out with his intact hand and pats the soldier on the back. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. 

The soldier’s eyes travel to where Anakin’s hand rests on his armour. There are streaks of hot blood, slowly trickling down his chest plate.

To his credit, the soldier’s voice barely wavers. “What do you want us to do with the airbender?” he asks.

“Bring him with us,” Anakin says. “I want him alive. Imprisoned.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier says. “Where do you want us to take him?”

_ To die,  _ Anakin wants to say, but knows he won’t accept anyone killing Obi-Wan but himself. And he’d  _ tried  _ but the stupid seed of sentiment buried deep in his heart refuses to let him, even now. “Take him to the Boiling Rock. I want him to rot there  _ forever _ ,” he growls. If Anakin could be happy, that would mean never seeing Obi-Wan’s face ever again. 

Outside, there is blazing heat. Even though Anakin stands in the stark metallic hall of the warship, it seems to throw everything into shimmering light. Anakin’s vision wavers. He imagines Obi-Wan, lying on the edge of the island, defeated, weak, broken, no way off the island and nothing to do but wait. 

He laughs again, giving the soldier one last pat on the arm. “And when we’re done here, take me to Fire Lord Palpatine,” he announces. 

His soldier nods once, stiffly, then bows down. His fist clenches so tightly the whites of his knuckles seem to strain, but he does not say anything. 

“Good man,” Anakin says, then turns to march down to his quarters. 

The sound of his boots coming down on metal--footsteps echoing down the hall--reminds him that he is done here. Obi-Wan is wrong. He was always wrong. 

“Sir,” a soldier says, bowing as Anakin passes. 

Anakin gives the man a nod, pauses briefly to study his face. 

The soldier looks up, and Anakin isn’t stupid, he can see the fear in the man’s eyes. It is exhilarating. “Sir, your arm,” the soldier says, mouth falling open in shock. Then, his eyes widen as the realization of his words crash onto him. “I--” 

Anakin holds up his good hand, smiles good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, wonders if this one will react the same as the last. 

There is no response, if only because the soldier seemed too petrified to say anything. Anakin has never commanded this level of respect, has never been looked at with with so much fear that even with a crippled hand and dripping blood everywhere, full grown men looked just about ready to piss themselves in terror. 

Obi-Wan had never looked at him like someone deserving of respect, had always only grinned and made a ridiculous joke and turned away. 

Anakin holds the soldier’s stare a bit longer, just because he can. 

Then, he turns away, leaving the man standing. 

The door to his room is heavy, but Anakin leans on it with his shoulder and it swings open for him. Inside, it is dark. Anakin holds out a small flame, the fire’s heat comforting resting in the palm of his hand. He manages to hold open the door just long enough for him to stumble in, then it crashes behind him, slamming. 

When he is alone, Anakin allows his shoulders to fall, cradles his broken arm to his chest. 

He slides down the door, too tired to move to his bed. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knows he has to dress the wound, has to make sure he doesn’t bleed out before he can get to the Fire Lord, knows there are a million things to do. 

Anakin takes a deep breath, leans his head back against the cool door. The room is still dark, but his fire illuminates everything. 

The glow is almost beautiful.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me, Anakin, did you manage to kill Kenobi?” Palpatine asks, the flickering blue flames casting dancing shadows on his face. 

Anakin kneels at the foot of the throne, one arm bandaged and held tightly to his chest, the other fisted on the ground. He looks up at Palpatine, something sharp lodged in his throat. “I defeated him on Roku’s Island,” he says. 

Palpatine leans forwards, mouth curling. “Oh? He is dead, then.” 

“I took him to the Boiling Rock,” Anakin admits, unable to look the Fire Lord in the eye any longer. 

The hiss of disapproval that follows fills the room. Anakin growled, bowing his head. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” he says. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Hm, clearly,” Palpatine says. 

Anakin punches at the ground. He has not seen Obi-Wan since the day of their fight, but sometimes he wonders. The crackling fires fill his mind like war cannons. Everything is too loud, the sound of Palpatine tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne, the heavy sound of his own breathing. 

Then, “Look at me, Anakin, my dear boy.” 

He does. 

Palpatine has sat back, leaning against the edge of the golden yellow back with an almost resigned twist to his mouth. It is almost an affectionate look, and Anakin feels the sting of disappointment. “You have much to learn, Anakin,” Palpatine says. 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“You must celebrate our victory over the Air Nomads,” Palpatine says, lips twitching up ever so slightly. “Take the time to rest up, let your injuries heal.”

Anakin finds his head dipping in a nod automatically. He bites his lip, and even though he wants to avert his eyes, he doesn’t. Sweat beads on his forehead, threatening to trickle down. Everything in this room is too hot, too much. His neck aches from looking up at Palpatine all the while. 

Palpatine steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of the throne. Perhaps it is only the shadows of the fire, but he looks very old, and very tired. Like he’s been fighting this war for too long.

“Please, my Lord,” Anakin says. His mouth is dry, but he licks his lips and continues. “You must rest as well.” 

Palpatine’s laughter echoes. “Of course, of course. Thank you for the concern, dear boy.” 

A smile blooms on his face. Anakin nods. “Should I do anything with Kenobi?” he asks hesitantly. 

If Palpatine ordered him to kill Obi-Wan, could he do it? Anakin’s fingernails dig into his palm. 

“Let him rot in prison,” Palpatine says dismissively. Anakin hates the flood of relief rushing through his veins like a cool river. 

Anakin stands. “Exactly what I thought, my Lord,” he says.

“Go, then, Anakin. Take care of yourself, yes?” 

“Of course, my Lord.” 

Anakin walks away from the room, feeling lighter than he has in years. The halls outside of Palpatine’s throne room are blissfully cool, and Anakin breathes in the fresh air and feels the tension in his shoulders unknotting.

Finally, finally, everything was slotting into place. Finally, he could be at peace. 

When he pictures Padmé waiting for him, a face full of promises and family and life and everything he could never have as the Avatar, Anakin breaks into a run. The wind rushes through his hair, wonderful, sweet, freeing. There is so much to tell her, and so much to do, but there would be nothing left to stop them from conquering it together. 

 

* * *

 

The door is open.

That is the first sign. 

Anakin nudges it the rest of the way with his hip, hearing the creaking of the heavy wooden door and his brows furrow. 

“Padmé?” he calls into their suite. 

There is no response. 

At once, it feels like his breath has seized in his throat, but Anakin tells himself to calm down, that he is only being paranoid.

Their room is dark. 

He ignites a flame, holding it out, squinting into the dimness. “Padmé?” he calls again, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. 

The door to their bedroom is open, too, and a creeping thought that has taken root in the back of his mind whispers that this has to be a hint, a clue, a reckoning. “Padmé?” This time, his voice is a whisper. Anakin walks lightly, treading carefully even though there is no hidden foe, nothing hiding in the folds of shadows and curtains. 

His flame illuminates nothing.

She is not there. 

 

* * *

 

Anakin stands in the middle of the room, pieces of sheets and curtains and everything lying around him. A scrap of something burns, still, the flames eating away at fine silk. It flickers in the corner of his eye, but Anakin doesn’t see any of it.

Padmé is gone. 

His flames eat away at the room. 

Here, drenched in victory and vengeance and light, Anakin falls to his knees.

 

* * *

 

The next day it is bright and early and everything hurts. Anakin drags a hood over his head as he walks down the path, steam rising up all before him and painting the sky a dreadful, dulled grey. 

The guards move as if to intercept him, but Anakin gives them his fiercest glare and they quail. They step away. He cannot find comfort even in this. 

Everything is dark inside, but Anakin does not need to know where he is going. He paces the rows on rows of cells until he sees him. At the very end. The hatred boiling his blood rises too high, heats his breath until he is practically breathing the flames.

She has to have had help. 

Obi-Wan looks up, eyes dull and beard unkempt. Anakin slams his good hand on the bars, eyes blazing, unable to feel anything at all at this broken man at his feet.  _ I did this,  _ he thinks, but then,  _ he took her away from me  _ and the metal starts to glow under his fingers. 

“What, come to gloat or something?” Obi-Wan says, stretching exaggeratedly. He does not get up. 

His words are more snarls than language, but Anakin knows Obi-Wan will understand. “Where is Padmé?” he demands. 

A brief silence. 

Then, Obi-Wan bursts into laughter. 

Anakin releases his grip on the bar so it does not melt. Breathes. Ignites a dagger of flames and thrusts it through the bars. A warning.

Obi-Wan continues to laugh, the sound too delighted, too gleeful for a man who Anakin is supposed to have  _ beaten.  _

“Even if I did know, what makes you think I’d tell you?” he finally asks, still chuckling. “I’m glad she finally came to her sense about you, though. Got herself and the kids out of a hot mess there.” 

The burst of flames from his fist hits the wall just beside Obi-Wan’s face. The airbender doesn’t even flinch. Anakin slams his forearm into the bars. “Tell me! Tell me where Padme is!” 

Obi-Wan leans back against the wall. Doesn’t say a damn word. 

Anakin sinks to his knees against the bars.  _ Don’t kill him, can’t kill him, he knows where Padmé is, can’t kill him, he’s  _ Obi-Wan,  _ can’t do it, useless useless useless-- _ the thoughts are a flurry around his mind, circling, fighting, a whirlwind of emotions. 

The iron grip he has on the whirlwind breaks. It flies into being around him-- _ can’t do it, kill him, where is she?-- _ and roars. Nothing like fire. His air roars and rages and it settles in his bones more easily than fire ever has.

Obi-Wan looks at him, only shakes his head, even smiles. 

Everything is still too bright, like Obi-Wan’s face is illuminated by something that casts mournful shadows over the plane of his features. It has to be a lie. Anakin closes his eyes and feels the hot tears roll down his cheeks. 

Around them, the whirlwind continues to roar.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“I need to find her,” Anakin says. The thought runs through his mind like a desperate spark, restless, unrelenting. He feels the harsh wall behind his back, the looming figures of the Fire Lords of old rising up ahead of him, feels himself bending and breaking under it all. 

Palpatine places a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Anakin looks up. “I need to find her,” he says.

“She could be anywhere in the world by now, Anakin,” Palpatine says, weary. Anakin feels his knees buckle. He clenches his hand into a shaking fist. 

“I know.” But. “I need to find her.” 

“It will take time, my boy. Time we do not have.” 

The war rages, but, of course it does. Outside these walls everything rages. There is the brief guilt of failing everything, failing everyone, and he has already lost Padmé--Palpatine’s looming disappointment is like a guillotine about to drop.

But. 

He has already lost Padmé.

Anakin thinks of her, far away and fighting with her fierce eyes, and he feels the desperation mounting. “Please,” he finds himself saying, the only thing left he has to say. “I need to find her.”

A hand on his other shoulder. Anakin opens his eyes and sees Palpatine’s severe frown, the concern laced in the lines of his face. “I know how important she is to you, Anakin,” he starts. 

Anakin nods desperately, barely holding himself up against the walls of the palace and Palpatine’s unyielding stare. The depths of his golden eyes seem to sear into him, looks into his core. 

“Would you know where to start?”

The question startles him. Anakin thinks about where Padme would go, thinks about travelling around the world to master the elements, feels despair grip his heart when he realizes there are so many places to be. He bites down hard on his lip, unwilling to think about how empty the world feels without Padme. 

Palpatine is a glowing flame, never quenched. Anakin always feels like the heat of the Fire Lord’s power presses down on him whenever they are together. 

Now, when Palpatine’s lips stretch into a thin smile, it is strangely comforting. “I was told you went to see the Airbender.” 

“I thought she might’ve had help from Obi-Wan,” Anakin mutters. 

Palpatine  _ tsks,  _ takes Anakin’s elbow and hauls him up to stand. Anakin straightens, back iron straight, holds his arms very still at his side. “And what did Kenobi say?” 

“He didn’t say anything.” The thought of Obi-Wan sparks the rage inside him, like a whirling ball of fire, like a shaking breath igniting the furnace of his heart. “I know he knows where she is,” he says, jaw clenching. 

“Then perhaps he’s no use to us alive,” Palpatine murmurs. 

Anakin looks up, startled. “What?” 

But Palpatine has only tucked his hands into his sleeves and is shaking his head. “Never mind that, Anakin,” he says. “You may go and look for Lady Amidala, provided you see to your duties, of course.” 

A wave of relief that rushes over him, like a breath of fresh air when he thought he’d drown. Anakin feels his face breaking out into a smile, feels his heart thudding in his chest, so loud that it flushes everything away. 

Palpatine is still talking. “The Earth Queen is being particularly stubborn about some of our colonies,” he says. “I was hoping you could stay here for the negotiations, but perhaps you can help by paying the colonies a little visit.” 

“Yes, yes of course, thank you,” Anakin says, the words coming out in a rush even though the brief stab of guilt that comes with neglecting his responsibilities is sharp and painful. 

When Palpatine nods and pats him on the arm before walking away, Anakin thinks that this is why he is fighting for a better world. Master Windu would never have approved of any of this, would’ve insisted that his greater duty was to the world as the Avatar, would’ve told him to let go of Padmé  _ forever.  _

The Fire Lord understands. 

Anakin strides down the hall, destination in mind. His feet feel lighter, his head feels calmer, he breathes in deep and feels the flickering of resolve deep in his chest. 

First, the traitor. 

Then, he would finally find Padmé. 

 

* * *

 

When he arrives at the prison cell, Obi-Wan doesn’t so much as look up. He sits at the other end of the cell, face shadowed, hair unkempt. The slight rise and fall of his shoulders is all Anakin can see that is proof he hasn’t simply just wasted away, here.

The particularly vindictive part of Anakin thinks,  _ good.  _

“Get up,” Anakin barks, resting his hand on the bars. 

Obi-Wan looks up, agonizingly slowly. His head is bent and his gaze is sullen, something harsh slashing his mouth into a scowl. “What do you want, Anakin?” he asks. Even his voice is utterly defeated. 

Anakin smiles. “We’re leaving.” 

“You’re going to have to explain a little more than that,” Obi-Wan says.

“You know where Padmé is.” 

Obi-Wan sighs, eyes dropped back to the ground. He doesn’t say anything to confirm or deny the words, and Anakin feels the familiar mixture of frustration and rage welling up in his throat. 

“Goddammit, Obi-Wan,” Anakin snarls. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“Sounds more like you’re trying to help yourself.” 

“Are you saying you want to waste your days away in here?” 

Another sigh. “I’m saying that Padmé left for a reason, you know.”

Anakin sweeps a line of flames into the cell. Obi-Wan only flicks his wrist and disperses it with a quick blast of air, and Anakin grits his teeth, wants to break through the bars and strangle Obi-Wan with his bare hands. “Tell me where she is,  _ dammit. _ ”

Obi-Wan falls silent. 

There is a long, harsh silence. Anakin stands, eyes wild, feeling like he is so close but Obi-Wan undoes all his efforts with his flippancy, like he always does. This time, he reigns in the fury, keeps his feet grounded. 

He reaches for the keys dangling on his belt. 

Slowly, deliberately, Anakin unlocks the cell door. 

Obi-Wan finally does look up again, something other than dull dispassion colouring his gaze.

Leaning down, Anakin grabs onto the front of Obi-Wan’s dirty robes, pulls him up and stares him in the eye. “You will come with me tomorrow,” Anakin says. “We’re going to the Earth Kingdom. You will tell me where Padmé is, or I’ll _kill you_ _right now._ ” 

Obi-Wan snorts. “You didn’t kill me on Roku’s Island.” 

“Are you underestimating me?” Anakin asks. 

For Padmé, he could do anything. He would destroy the world for her if she so wished it. 

He tosses the bundle of respectable robes onto the ground, throws Obi-Wan back onto the ground after. “We leave tomorrow,” he says, and turns. 

 

* * *

 

When the sun rises, Anakin wakes. 

_ Padmé,  _ he thinks.

He walks to the balcony, looks out over the dull red of the Fire Nation. 

Out there, somewhere, she is waiting. What for, he doesn’t know, but he hopes it will be enough when he finds her again.  _ I would walk the skies for a thousand years to find you again,  _ he thinks, fingers gripping the edge of the railing.    
_ I’ll bring you home. _


End file.
